The Cat and the Conqueror
by lady Calendaria
Summary: Heracles gets a mysterious call that sends him reluctantly into the the hands of an equally mysterious and terrifying stranger while his new partner is hiding knowledge from him. of course, what does this all have to do with the Greeks long forgotten past?


Heracles liked his job. He liked his semi-cluttered office. It was lined with floor to ceiling windows that would shine the midday sun across his warm cherry wood desk and he couldn't help laying his head down on it and taking naps whenever he could get away with it. He was on good terms with his boss who didn't know about the odd days when Heracles would sneak one or two of his cats in and bask in purr therapy all day.

The only thing he didn't like about his job was when he was told to leave his comfortable office or received a call at o dark thirty in the morning informing him to head down to some remote part of the harbor or some back alley in order to investigate a crime scene. He hated the smell of blood and death that hung in the air hours after the body had been removed and the blood washed away. However, he was a detective with the Thessaloniki police force. It was his job, and right now he really wanted to be back in his warm little office.

* * *

It all started with a call. A muffled, distorted voice on the other end had asked for him by name and listed a street address and a meeting time. Heracles had written down the info and reported it to his boss, as per protocol. He hadn't minded being put on the case, as much as he would prefer to laze around in his office. It was normal seeing as he'd been the one to get the lead. However he was also assigned a partner and he was less than thrilled about that.

Heracles was infamous throughout his department as a loner. None of his partners stayed with him long because of disagreements in how they conducted business. Often, they would complain that he was lazy and never paid attention; or that he talked about nothing but his beloved felines. They always said that one day he would get someone killed.

His new partner was a small and lithe man of Japanese origin. He was in his Mid 20's just like Heracles and had short, neatly combed shiny black hair. A contrast to Heracles' unruly russet locks that always gave the impression he had just rolled out of bed. The man's name was Kiku and he had joined the force two years after moving to Greece from Japan with a representative from the Japanese embassy.

Kiku was quiet and polite, something that Heracles appreciated as he drove his nondescript Opel the fifty three minutes it took to get to Stavros. The address led them to an old factory rotting on the outskirts of a small community by the beach. With five hours until the meeting went down, the two decided to drive through town and find a nice place to eat. They settled on a nice place named Agnanti. It had a great view and an even better menu.

Over dinner, Heracles got to know Kiku a bit more and was secretly ecstatic to find someone who loved cats almost as much as him. The Japanese man had three cats in his apartment that he shared stories about with Heracles while Heracles laughed and told tales of his own cats. It was the fastest four and a half hour meal he'd ever gone through and for once, the idea of having a partner didn't bug him so bad.

They arrived at the meeting place ten minutes early and took their positions; guns held at the ready as they waited in the shadows.

Before long, a lone pair of footsteps echoed off the rusting corrugated metal siding of the old factory. The owner of the footsteps walked past them to stop at the railing overlooking the moonlit sea. He was well dressed; the style of the suit and his hair heavily suggested he was Italian. It was confirmed when another, much taller figure joined the first. The shorter figure spoke loud angry English with a heavy Italian accent while the taller of the two responded quieter, too quiet to make out any accent. His clothes were casual and the hood of his jacket hid his face from view.

Heracles watched with interest. Was this a drug deal? An exchange of top secret information? The Italian must have been from the Sicilian mafia, but the other? Was he Bulgarian, Turkish, Macedonian? There was a mafia syndicate in Macedonia, everyone knew that. And to meet up in Greece, neutral territory as far as the mafia was concerned, made perfect sense.

He thought back to the call he had gotten that afternoon. Why would someone have tipped him off over these two foreigners meeting up? Now that he thought about it, the police never really cared about meet-ups like this. It was none of their business as long as it didn't involve their country, but still… something about the taller man made him feel uneasy.

After exchanging a few more words, the mystery man held out a manila folder taken from his jacket while the Italian extended a chain with a flash drive connected. It seems an agreement had been reached between them.

Heracles knew it was now or never, he had to act. He yelled from his hiding spot in the best English he could.

"Freeze! Stop what you are doing and put your hands in the air. We have you surrounded." His hands were steady as he pointed his gun at the mysterious mans broad chest.

The Italian flinched at the sound of his voice, withdrawing the flash drive and sliding a gun out of his suit jacket with a hissed curse in his native tongue. The taller man didn't seem the least bit surprised though. He lowered the arm with the folder calmly, but made no move to obey Heracles' demands.

"Lower the gun! Put both hands above your head! I... We will not hesitate to shoot!" his sights found their way to the Italian. "I'm warning you"

The Italian spoke up "how do we know you are not bluffing? Step out where we can see you."

"Not until you lower your gun."  
"What, so you can shoot me instead? I don't think so. If anyone is getting shot tonight it's going to be you"  
Heracles' gun wavered, he never liked negotiating with criminals, being in any kind of shoot out, or in a situation where his life was in danger. He wanted his office, his cats, and his desk. He wanted the warm sunlight filtering through his windows.

Then he remembered that he wasn't really alone; he had Kiku with him.

With that thought in mind, he slowly came out of his shadowed hiding place, gun trained on the Italian, hoping that Kiku would know exactly when to shoot.

"Here I am." He stated hesitantly. "Shoot me and you'll die so fast you won't even know your dead. "The Italian had his gun on the Greek while the hooded man still stood motionless. He then lifted his arm and threw something over the edge of the pier, making a loud splashing noise that startled the Italian enough to pull the trigger.  
Heracles ducked as Kiku came out of the shadows and shot at the Italians gun, making the Italians shot miss and hit the building behind the Greek, only a few feet from where his head had been once before.

It was then that the hooded man acted; darting toward the Greek, he knocked the gun aside and wrapped his large rough hands securely around Hera's neck.

"I knew you would come." The hooded man whispered. "It's been a long time, brat."

The voice sent shivers down Hera's spine as he clawed at the mans hands for release. The man's voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place it and even though he'd heard the man speak, it was too soft to place that accent. Was he really Macedonian?

So many questions were spinning in the young Greeks mind as he became short of breath and his vision clouded. Then the hand was gone and he faintly heard shots fired as he sank to the ground.

He took in lungful after lungful of the night air and his vision slowly cleared, his strength returning with his breath. Kiku had run over to him once he knew that the coast was clear and the presumed mafia members were gone.

"Heracles? Are you okay?" the Japanese man hovered over him, worried.

Heracles stood shakily. "what happened? I know you shot at the Italian and then the hooded man came at me... what happened to him, the hooded man? I feel like I should know him..."

"They're gone." Kiku explained "that Italian ran away and the hooded man jumped off the pier. I don't think either of them is coming back but we should leave also and write up a report of what happened."  
Heracles nodded dumbly and went with Kiku to the car. Kiku ended up driving back to the station as Heracles was still feeling the effects of being strangled and was unfit to drive.

The Greek was exhausted and more than happy to see his office again. He caressed the polished cherry wood desk laid his head upon it, not paying any mind to the report he had finished writing up to give to his boss later that morning. At the moment, Heracles just wanted to go home and cuddle with his cats. Once he felt more aware, Kiku allowed Heracles into the driver's seat and instructed him how to drive safely the entire war to his house where Kiku ended up spending the night on the Greeks couch. It had been a rough night for both of them, but as Hera's head sank into his soft pillow, the hooded man's voice haunted him.

_I know this voice... but from where…_

**A/N: so, this is the first chapter. I'm bad with stand-off scenes so sorry if it seemed a little rushed. Please comment and review, and I'll get the second chapter up as soon as I can. Ideas are always appreciated as are guesses as to what could happen next because you never know, you could be right. And if any errors are spotted you can alert me on that also, Thanks!**


End file.
